


A New Version of Us

by grangerweasleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Scorose, Platonic Relationships, Set right after the events of Cursed Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerweasleys/pseuds/grangerweasleys
Summary: “You’re keeping me in suspense here. What’s this new version, huh?”“I want us to talk more.”“Talk more?” Albus replied, surprised. “Talk more? Scorpius — we practically spend every class together.”“No — not like that! Not — No, Albus, I don’t mean chatting. You know — banter. What does the Irish boy in our year say? Craic? I — I don’t mean any of that. I mean — proper talking.”“Proper talking?”~ ~ ~ ~In which Scorpius Malfoy and Albus Potter discuss Scorpius's 'new version of us'. Set the day after the end of Cursed Child.





	A New Version of Us

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw the play recently, I was thinking about how Albus and Scorpius both had difficulty with telling each other about difficult moments in their lives. Scorpius and his Mum; Albus and his Dad. During the play, they begin to open up about their difficulties and become more honest with each other. About how they feel. About how they value each other. About showing their love, through words and through hugs. It struck me and while I have no idea what Jack Thorne intended, I couldn't help but tie it into how boys have more difficulty with this stuff compared with girls due to toxic masculinity, the patriarchy's constraints, etc. 
> 
> So I, personally, see Scorpius's 'new version of us' as this: more open with each other, showing their pain, hugging, telling each other how much they value each other, etc. 
> 
> Dedicated to Callum, for getting it & for fighting the good fight.

Albus Potter could not remember a time when he had ever felt so light.

The large claws that had grabbed onto him during his first year had been axed off; of course the scars still remained, the imprints still raw and red. Albus knew that they would never leave his body, that they would be a permanent fixture. Some marks would never truly fade. 

But Albus felt light. 

Despite knowing that he would still frequently dream of Delphi and of his Grandparents’s screams, despite feeling that he was now reluctant to trust others, and despite the lingering thought at the back of his mind about seeing the thestrals that fall, Albus felt _light_. 

His Dad had proven to him the afternoon before that mental perfection can never quite be reached. But you go on, you continue to live, and you continue to love, and you begin to open your eyes in the morning and smile when you feel the sun radiating down onto your face. You can still feel light, even if the darkness still exists.

Albus had planned to go back to Hogwarts for dinner that night but his Dad’s company ended up being something that Albus wanted — _needed_ to indulge in. He wanted to bask in his Dad’s touch, the comforting arm wrapped around him at the graveyard, and the love that he now knew shone from his Dad’s eyes for him. 

_“I can, er, I can speak to Professor McGonagall if you like. You could come and have dinner with your Mum and me,” his Dad had offered awkwardly. “But only if you want to. I know that Scorpius — well — he…”_

_“Doesn’t have any other friends?”_

_“I didn’t mean it like that,” his Dad had said quickly, fear now in his eyes. “I just meant — after everything —”_

_“It’s okay, Dad,” Albus had replied. “You don’t need a lot of friends if you have one great one. Besides, I think he’s… he’s got some other people too now.”_

_His Dad raised an eyebrow._

_“I actually have some advice I need to ask you about that,” Albus smiled sheepishly when he saw his Dad’s face soften in awe. “Over dinner?”_

Dinner with his parents, eating _so_ much and still feeling _so_ light, turned into staying the night. McGonagall didn’t mind — she had been advised by the Healers at St Mungo’s of the trauma both boys had been through and the extra support that they needed. 

When he arrived back at Hogwarts that morning in time for breakfast, he felt a smack of guilt in his stomach when he realised that he had forgotten to owl Scorpius. When he spotted him sitting alone at the Slytherin table, clawing at his nails and anxiety screaming across his face, his guilt intensified. 

He sped up, wanting to quickly explain his absence to his best friend, when he felt a firm hand stop him. Rose. 

“Albus,” she said from her seat at the Gryffindor table. “Where have you been?”

“At home,” he said and he was, perhaps unfairly, surprised to see Rose’s face melt in worry. “I’m okay. Just wanted to spend the night with them.”

“Oh,” Rose said, nodding to herself. “I — he’s been worried about you. You can see it in his face.”

“Since when did you —” Albus paused. Pity. Pity being a start. Scorpius had never wanted to find that time-turner in the first place, hadn’t he? Maybe his intuition did make more sense than his puns. “Never mind. I’m going to see him now.”

As he moved to walk off, Rose grabbed onto his hand. She stood up and wrapped herself around him, nestling her chin on his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said before letting go. “I’ll see you around?”

“Well, we are at the same school,” Albus replied. 

Rose rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re doing better than I thought you were.”

Albus grinned at her. “I’ll see you around.”

Before he had even reached the Slytherin table, a still-anxious Scorpius had already risen. He was examining Albus cautiously, wondering what trauma had befallen him this time.

“Albus!” He exclaimed. “Where have you been? I was — I was so worried! Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, I forgot to owl,” Albus replied. “I spent the night at home.”

“So the bonding thing went well, did it?” Scorpius said and his face lit up. “I knew it would!” 

“Beyond well, yeah,” Albus replied, smiling back. 

He was unable to hide the happiness, the _pride_ , that he felt thinking about how wonderful it felt to spend time with his Dad. He knew it was shining out of him from the way Scorpius looked at him; the look of a friend who wanted nothing more than for his friend’s burdens to be removed.

Scorpius suddenly lifted his hands up into the air and threw them at Albus. He awkwardly pulled him into a hug and squeezed him, rocking his body to the side. Albus could not help but laugh.

“You are taking this hugging thing seriously, aren’t you?”

“I see Rose and her friends doing it all the time!” Scorpius said. “Not that I — I mean, she is a very pretty face to look at… more than pretty… but it’s not that I _stalk_ her.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I do not!” Scorpius exclaimed, pulling away. “I just meant that I occasionally notice her and her friends hugging a lot. Like after exams. You know. Those kinds of moments."

“Maybe she’ll be hugging you next,” Albus teased. Scorpius reddened and swatted his friend’s arm. “You were the one that said pity was a start!”

“Well it _is_ ,” Scorpius said adamantly. “But I — actually — that — uh — pity being a start — that reminds…”

“Are you alright, Scorpius? What is it?”

“I need to — I need to, uhm, talk to you about something.” Scorpius looked away. “About… about the new version of us that I had in my head.”

“Aaaalright?” Albus said, his brow furrowed. “Are you wanting to —”

Scorpius held his hand up and his eyes darted around the Great Hall. “Follow me when I move,” he said. 

“What are you —”

Scorpius darted his arm out and grabbed a handful of pastries. They were quickly swept under his cloak and his eyes were now wide with alarm. “Now!” He said, as he rushed out of the Great Hall.

Shaking his head in disbelief, but smiling with fondness, Albus followed his friend. When they had both exited and once Scorpius had deemed it to be safe, they finally slowed down and Scorpius handed Albus a squashed pastry. “You are ridiculous.” 

“I am not!” Scorpius protested. “That prefect — you know the one, from Ravenclaw! Callum! The one that — the one that fancies Rose too. Prat that he is. He’s looking for any excuse to take points off of Slytherin!”

“Scorpius Malfoy — the legendary pastry thief. Hogwarts is shivering.”

“Well, it should be!” Scorpius responded. He removed his wand from his pocket and started to launch pretend-attack poses at Albus. “I am awfully scary.”

“The ‘awful’ part is correct,” Albus said and he dodged the second swat that day aimed at him. “So what’s this about the ‘new version of us’? I’m eager to know now.”

Scorpius tensed, his hands clawing together into fists. He took a deep breath, nodded to himself, and motioned down to the grass in-front of him. Confused and mildly afraid, Albus sat down and Scorpius joined him.

“I was thinking…”

“You do a lot of thinking.”

“Shh!” Scorpius hushed. “I’ve rehearsed this!”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Right — well — I’ve been thinking — No! I’ve already said that. But I _have_ been thinking… about us. About us and the friendship that we have.”

Albus’s heart raced. The lightness that he had been feeling began to slowly evaporate; the self-loathing, the paranoia, and the wonder at anyone possibly being able to tolerate him came creeping back. Scorpius noticed this and his eyes widened.

“No! N-n-nothing bad! Albus — you’re my best friend. And I meant everything I said, that night when we were looking up at the castle. Everything. I — I wanted nothing more than a best friend when I was younger and I got the best possible one.”

Albus swallowed, momentarily overcome by emotion. He was still not quite used to hearing good things about himself, so used to the taunts by the bullies and his own brain. “I — I meant what I said, too. In the library. When we had that fight. I — I — You do make me stronger. Your friendship makes me stronger. I wouldn’t have survived the past few years without it. Without you.”

Scorpius smiled. “I don’t think I would have either.”

“You’re keeping me in suspense here. What’s this new version, huh?”

“I want us to talk more.”

“ _Talk_ more?” Albus replied, surprised. “ _Talk_ more? Scorpius — we practically spend every class together.”

“No — not like that! Not — No, Albus, I don’t mean _chatting._ You know — banter. What does the Irish boy in our year say? Craic? I — I don’t mean any of that. I mean — proper talking.”

“ _Proper talking_?”

“Yes. Proper talking. About… about…” Scorpius sighed, realising that his current thread was not working. “When my Mum died. I couldn’t write to you. I couldn’t even tell you what had happened.”

“I…” Albus’s voice cracked. “I… I told you… I know we don’t…”

“No!” Scorpius said, horrified, and he held his hands up. “I didn’t mean — no, Albus, you’re fine! You are the most wonderful friend, and I couldn’t have gotten through that funeral without you.”

Albus nodded warily, his brain now desperately trying to hose the fire of self-doubt and inadequacy that had broken out inside of it. “Can you just spit it out? Please?”

“I want us to talk more about our problems. About what’s going on in our heads, about what’s bothering us. About our Dads and how we’re doing with them. I — I — I realised… you couldn’t tell me about that argument with your Dad either, could you?”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“But we’re best friends, Albus. We’re each other’s only friend and we — and we can’t keep — we can’t keep not talking about this stuff. We can’t keep burrowing it away, hiding it in our brains, and pretending that we _don’t_ need to talk to each other,” Scorpius said. “Because we _do_. We really, really do. I — I felt it in the library. I felt the relief. Of talking about my Mum, about the bullies, about having to deal with people thinking I was his son. It was the — _the_ most wonderful thing, Albus. And I don’t want it to be wonderful. I want it to be normal.”

Albus could not respond at first, so taken aback that he was. He hadn’t expected that — he wasn’t quite sure what he had expected, the old and pessimistic side of his brain battling away with the new and optimistic side, but it had not been that. But Scorpius was right, wasn’t he? Friends — friends were meant to talk. They were meant to be able to tell the other one that their Mum had died, or that their Dad and them had gotten into an awful argument. Friends were meant to do that. They were meant to talk.

“You’re right,” Albus said at last. He looked up at a nervous Scorpius, biting his nails and bracing himself for Albus’s response, and smiled. “You’re right. We do need to talk more. About… about how we’re doing with our Dads. Exams. Stress. About — about — how our therapy is going. About — about that night. About — watching them — and Delphi…”

When Scorpius noticed the tears forming in Albus’s eyes, he put his arm around his friend. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s in the past now and the — the stuff that isn’t… we can…”

“Talk about it.”

“Yes. We can,” Scorpius replied. “We can talk about it… and about…”

“How I still jump whenever I feel someone approach me in the hallway, because I think they’re going to hurtle abuse at me or attack me.”

“I still do the same,” Scorpius replied quietly. “And — and — whenever I hear — about Delphi, when they mention Voldemort’s Child…”

Albus looked up at his friend and smiled weakly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“We do,” Scorpius said glumly. Albus watched as his mind ticked, as his soft and sad face transformed into one that was harder, more determined. “But it doesn’t have to be all — you know, eternal darkness. We can talk about, y’know, the good things about our new relationships with our Dads.”

“Yeah… and… I don’t know. When we fall in love — get all… _deep_ about our feelings. That sort of stuff.” Albus scrunched his face up when he noticed Scorpius’s eyes lighting up, a mischievousness behind them. “I do not have a thing for older women, Scorpius!”

His friend burst out into a loud, care-free laughter. One that, despite Scorpius’s optimism throughout everything, Albus knew was rare. He joined in with him, his own happiness consuming him, and making him unable to stop. While his stomach began to hurt, he did not mind; it was the best kind of pain. 

“But that isn’t permission for you to babble on about my cousin for hours,” Albus warned, once he had calmed and was able to speak again. “You can keep a diary for that, since she’s my _cousin_.”

“Oh, fine,” Scorpius huffed, though he was still grinning. “So you agree, then? We’re going to… talk more?”

Albus nodded. “I think it’ll be good for us. Not just for our friendship… but for us. Separately. Especially now that we’re…”

“Trying to get over being manipulated by the child of Voldemort, being lost in time, watching Craig…” Scorpius’s voice cracked. “Well, you know.”

“I know,” Albus responded. “But we can talk about it.”

“That we can,” Scorpius said. He looked down at his watch and his eyes widened. “I’m late for History of Magic!”

“The horror!” Albus imitated. “The world has stopped! Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy is late for History of Magic!”

“Hey!” Scorpius said, reaching out to swat him but missing as Albus pulled away. “That’s the third time today that I’ve had to do that! And you know how I feel over my middle name!”

The boys stood up, still grinning and laughing. Albus hugged Scorpius again and he felt his lightness intensify. Things may still get dark, he realised, and he may still struggle with what had happened to him; what is happening to him; and what will happen to him. That was inevitable. But what he did have was a friend, a friend that he could talk to about _everything_. A friend who would never get tired, or agitated, or bored. A friend.

“I’ll let you go then,” Albus said. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Scorpius repeated, before hurrying off in the direction of the castle.

“Scorpius?” Albus called at him. Scorpius turned around and tilted his head. “You’re claiming that _I_ have a thing for older women, but I saw your face when you saw Bathilda Bagshot that night.”

“Disgusting!” Scorpius shouted back, sticking his tongue out. “My — dead — Queen is pure!” 

Albus watched as his friend ran off.  He thought about the previous afternoon with his father; his dinner with his parents; Rose’s worry for him earlier; and of the long, difficult, and necessary conversations that he would be having with Scorpius. 

Albus felt light.


End file.
